


Here I am, are you ready?

by isitandwonder



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Face-Fucking, Fingerfucking, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2016-09-30
Packaged: 2018-08-18 18:08:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8170963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isitandwonder/pseuds/isitandwonder
Summary: I was asked to write something involving olive oil and a kitchen table. This is what I came up with. Just smut, as usual...So, this is for you, @caressthosesheekbones!





	

Sherlock crashed into the kitchen while John was cooking dinner. It was nothing spectacular – the food - just some pasta and sauce. However, the sight Sherlock presented was spectacular. The detective was soaking wet, his curls plastered to his skull, his sodden Belstaff dripping while his shoes squelched. But despite all this his face was displaying an eerily happy smile.

John nearly dropped the spoon he was stirring the noodles with. “Jesus, Sherlock, what happened?” It had been raining but that couldn't have drenched Sherlock quite so thoroughly.

Sherlock just dropped his coat onto the floor and shook his head like a wet dog, sending droplets flying.

“A case. London Aquarium. It was... challenging.” Sherlock's eyes gleamed as he recalled the events of the evening.

“You were pushed into the aquarium?” John asked, sounding worried.

“Oh no, John, I jumped.” Sherlock's grin widened. “What's for dinner?”

“Pasta.” John answered, rather gobsmacked. That lunatic did jump into a shark tank!

Sherlock strode over and peered into the pots. 

“You are dripping into the sauce.” John stated, passing Sherlock a tea towel – the least he could do. Sherlock absent-mindedly started to pet his damp hair with it. 

“Perhaps you should take all of this off and have a shower?” John suggested

Sherlock looked from the stove to John. “Great idea.” He admitted; and with that, he unbuttoned his jacket and threw it carelessly onto the floor next to his coat. “Never mind, it's ruined anyway.”

John swallowed. He didn't mind at all, because Sherlock was now only wearing a tight white dress shirt that hugged his lean body like a second skin and was, due to his overall wetness, rather transparent. John could see Sherlock's hard nipples rubbing against the damp fabric.

“You are freezing. Get into the tub right now.” John's voice had gone a little hoarse.

But Sherlock didn't move, only casually began to unbutton his shirt. John couldn't take his eyes of the long fingers moving dexterously down Sherlock's torso, slipping buttons through holes to expose creamy skin. As Sherlock peeled the cotton from his shoulders gooseflesh spread across his arms; his teeth started to chatter. The shirt landed on the floor with a soft thud.

John just stared, spoon forgotten, hovering mid-air. Sherlock's pectorals and abdominal muscles were clearly visible beneath taut skin, as was a downy trail of dark hair spreading down his lower stomach, vanishing inside his trousers.

Something carnal and predatory stirred within John. He couldn't avert his gaze, his eyes roaming Sherlock's exposed naked body. He was so thin, pale and beautiful, so vulnerable, that it made the blood rushing to pool in John's groin.

As his higher brain functions had momentarily expired it took John a moment to recognise that Sherlock had stilled, his hands resting on his hips.

“John?” Sherlock's voice sounded wavering.

John coughed to clear his throat, then raised his eyes to meet Sherlock's confused glance. Their eyes locked; Sherlock started to blink rapidly as his cheeks flushed a delicate pink at the sight of John's piercing gaze.

“You should take your trousers off as well.” John suggested in a dark low voice. He watched rather satisfied as Sherlock opened his belt and fly with shaky fingers, pushing the wet wool down, removing shoes and socks as well.

John very carefully put the spoon onto the counter and turned the gas down, his eyes never leaving Sherlock's almost naked body. Sherlock stood at ease, and just a slight tension in his shoulders betrayed his nonchalance.

John raked his eyes over the exposed white skin, the long lean muscles. Sherlock shivered a bit and John wasn't sure if this was because he was freezing or turned on.

John took a step towards Sherlock, who didn't retreat. They were standing very close and John could feel the cold surrounding Sherlock's body; it was a bit like standing next to an open fridge. Rivulets of water were still dripping from Sherlock's curls, running down the column of his throat, over his collar bones and chest.

John took the tea towel from the counter and started dabbing at Sherlock's neck, moving down to his shoulders. “Get a shower, Sherlock. Then come back. Dinner will be ready.”

Sherlock spun on his heels and almost ran to the bathroom.

\----------

He showered very fast. It was not five minutes later that a very naked but now rather rosy Sherlock Holmes padded into the kitchen. He didn't even bother wrapping himself in a towel.

John was sitting on a chair next to the kitchen table, waiting. At the sight of Sherlock he unconsciously licked his lips. Delectable!

As Sherlock hesitated in the doorway John took the initiative. “Come over here.”

Sherlock walked up to him until he stood but only a few feet away from John, who reached out and gripped his hip with one hand, stroking the fingertips over the soft sensitive skin between hipbone and groin. Sherlock looked down, watching John mesmerised.

Sherlock's cock was filling rapidly while John caressed him. It had rested in a nest of dark wiry curls (neatly trimmed, John noticed) and was now coming to life.

John watched Sherlock's cock stiffen and brought his other hand to his other hip, stroking his thumb over Sherlock's iliac crest.

Above him, Sherlock started to breath heavily.

“You like that?” John asked, looking up. Sherlock nodded, his eyes dark.

“Like that as well?” John nibbled at the skin just below Sherlock's belly button before licking a wet stripe down to Sherlock's pubic bone, nuzzling his nose into the surprisingly soft hair between Sherlock's legs. He smelled of expensive soap and just a hint of musk.

Sherlock made a strangled sound; wen he tried to move to get John's mouth were he needed it, John gripped his hips firmly to still him.

“No. Not yet.”

Sherlock huffed impatiently but stopped fidgeting. John rewarded his obedience with small wet kisses all over his lower abdomen, carefully avoiding getting too close to Sherlock's cock, until Sherlock panted and squirmed beneath John's mouth and hands.

“John, please...” Sherlock's voice was raw and thin. His cock stood by now fully erect, the foreskin almost retreated, exposing the dark pink and shiny glans.

“Mmh, gorgeous.” John hummed against Sherlock's skin, brushing the tip of his tongue quickly against the base of Sherlock's cock. Sherlock nearly jumped.

“John!”

“What? What do you want, Sherlock? Tell me?”

“God, don't be so obtuse! Just suck me off, will you!” Sherlock demanded.

“You want me to suck you off?” John tilted his head, rubbing his stubbled cheek against the sensitive skin of Sherlock's loins; he could feel Sherlock shiver.

Sherlock looked down at John and nodded. An impatient crease was showing above his nose between his eyebrows.

“And what if I have other plans with you ?” John asked darkly.

“What do you mean?” Sherlock sounded confused. “I thought this was the built-up to oral sex?”

“Well, then I think you got it wrong, genius. Bent over the table now, will you?” It wasn't really a question even as John's tried to sound polite.

“What are you...?”

“Stop asking. NOW!” John interrupted in his firm Captain Watson voice. “Bent over.”

As Sherlock still stood rooted to the spot John spun him around and pushed him down onto the not too clean but thankfully mostly empty table (there were just a few books, notepads, receipts, a packet of crisps and five cans of Ambrosia rice pudding on it – so nothing toxic, gory or breakable, thank god!)

Sherlock's by now leaking cock got trapped between his abdomen and the table top, providing much needed friction.

“Hold on tight.” John ordered, and Sherlock immediately grabbed the table top with both hands at either side of his head. John kicked his feet apart, then started to massage Sherlock's pale buttocks. Sherlock writhed a bit on the table as if to try out the effect.

“I need something squidgy.” John murmured while pulling Sherlock's cheeks apart to gaze down at his tight pink whole. Sherlock moaned.

John looked around. He, too, was rather affected by the developments, and as most of his blood seemed to have rushed downstairs, his brain felt a bit foggy. He needed something greasy. Oily. His eyes roamed the kitchen until they got caught at the bottle of olive oil on the worktop. That'll do nicely. John pressed one hand onto the small of Sherlock's back while angling for the olive oil with the other.

“What are you...? Gnhha.” Sherlock hissed as the rather could oil was poured down his cleft. John thought it appropriate to be quite generous and therefore Sherlock was nicely slicked up when he started to brush the tip of his index finger gently but firmly over Sherlock's hole.

“Oh god...” Sherlock exhaled, and John pushed in, sinking his finger in the whole way, hooking it up to brush over Sherlock's prostate. When he found it Sherlock almost jumped off the table, his whole body going rigid. John didn't pull out but continued to rub the bundle of nerves until Sherlock almost sobbed.

“John, please, uh... Jesus, fuck... John! JOHN! JohnJohnJohn...” Sherlock chanted his name like it was a holy litany, all the while rubbing himself against the edge of the desk.

John held him down with one hand as he added a second finger. He started to move in and out at a leisurely pace. Sherlock was tight around his fingers but after a few minutes John felt his muscles relax enough to take a third finger. John pushed in despite Sherlock's surprised gasp.

John again aimed for Sherlock's prostate, and now, with three fingers buried deep inside him, it was even better. Sherlock made a keening sound at the back of his throat and John could feel his muscles clench around his fingers.

“Come on, fuck yourself on my hand.” John growled and Sherlock started moving, rotating his pelvis, pushing down. He moaned and panted and John could see the muscles of his thigh quivering. He removed his other hand from Sherlock's back and started to fondle his balls.

“Oh god, John, John...” Sherlock cried out, pushing back hungrily.

“Can you take another?” John asked, starring transfixed at his fingers disappearing inside Sherlock's body. 

“Y-yes...” Sherlock huffed, and that was all John needed to push his pinky in as well. Sherlock made a strangled sound at the intrusion and stilled briefly but when John found his prostate again all he could do was writhe and moan.

“God, I've got four fingers inside you. Look at you, fucking yourself on my fingers up your arse.” John whispered and when he squeezed Sherlock's balls again he could feel them tightening, and then Sherlock was coming, bucking his hips, pushing back against John's hand, almost yelling John's name as John rubbed and rubbed over his prostate to draw out his orgasm.

Eventually Sherlock's cries calmed down to a whimper, and John had mercy on him and pulled out. The well oiled skin made a wet squelch as Sherlock's stretched hole fluttered a bit as he tried to cope with the sudden emptiness.

John bowed down and pressed his still fully clothed erection against Sherlock's sensitive arse while planting a kiss between his shoulder blades, licking at the sweat pooling there.

“Now, what are we going to do about this?” John asked while undulating his hips against Sherlock's buttocks, rubbing his hard cock against Sherlock's cleft.

“I... I don't know.”

“You don't know? I thought I heard someone mention oral sex about half an hour ago?”

Sherlock almost melted to the floor. John had never seen anybody slide off a table that graciously and drop to his knees like this in one fluid motion. Sherlock pressed his face against John's groin and started to mouth him while he was still fully clothed.

“Get my cock out.” John demanded, and Sherlock was not only happy but also quick to comply. He unzipped John's jeans, pulled down his pants and swallowed him down to the hilt in one swift go.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” John exclaimed before he started to fuck Sherlock's mouth, thrusting deep. And Sherlock let him. John nevertheless grabbed the back of Sherlock's head, threading his fingers – still greasy from the oil – through Sherlock's hair as to not let him go. He could feel Sherlock drool and gag while he fucked his face but when he looked down to meet Sherlock's gaze there was just adoration and want, such want that John suddenly lost control. He pushed in deep, deeper, and then he was coming down Sherlock's throat, his cock thickening and pulsing wave after wave of semen into that mouth; and Sherlock took it all.

When John finally released him Sherlock sat back on his heels and coughed, gasping for air. John smiled down at him and brushed his thumb over Sherlock's swollen lower lip as he looked up. Then John nodded towards the table.

“You made a right mess there... how about you clean that up now with this improbable mouth of yours?” John still smiled when Sherlock started to lap up his own come. "Be thorough." He admonished, pushing Sherlock's face down into the pool of pearly semen. And Sherlock happily obliged.


End file.
